


Shot for Shot

by natisrapunzel



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-04-04 23:19:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14031045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natisrapunzel/pseuds/natisrapunzel
Summary: The team has been working non-stop, so Daichi decides to treat the team to a night out at the club. However, not all members are in the right spirits--Noya, who is drinking to forget his feelings for a certain teammate, and Asahi, who worries that his best friend's excessive drinking will get him in danger, but also force them to be alone, calling out the obvious tension between them. What secrets will be spilled over loose lips, and what will the fallout be the morning they are sober?





	1. Chapter 1

NOYA

“Mine!” I yelled, running to the perfect place to receive the ball hurling towards me. With a slight bend of the knees, I popped up at the perfect moment, bumping the ball right to Kageyama’s waiting hands. I watched the set conclude as usual, with Kageyama’s insane toss to Hinata resulting in our point, but I couldn’t stop feeling the eyes of the server across the net burning into my head. I smirked to myself, already anticipating his shocked expression, which I could savor in 3, 2…

My view of the net was suddenly blocked by the massive player in front of me, sweat beading his tan brow and seeping into his dark brown man-bun. He rubbed the back of his head in exasperation, giving me a perfect view of his well-defined muscles, which was by no means a problem for me. It did, however, momentarily distract me from his charming face, I realized with a start, flushing despite myself as I focused back on him, hoping he hadn’t caught me staring. His expression, though, was actually my favorite part of looking at Asahi, even when he was this sweat-drenched. 

Asahi’s eyes were overflowing with warmth, immediately forcing his goodness into whoever he was addressing, which for someone a little rougher on the edges, was not a common feeling. They lit up his face now as he looked down at me, those eyes starting at me under knit brows, his gentle mouth resting in a confused “o”.

“Noya…” He mumbled, his eyes roving from my feet back to my eyes, shaking his head in exasperation. My chest tightened at his admiration for something I had done, something I hadn’t even had to put much effort into. Still, he gazed at me with awe. “You are incredible. How did you hit that?”

I laughed, my own still-sore hand rubbing the back of my neck. Feeling the sweat there, I removed it quickly, wiping it off on my shorts. “You never make it too easy, Asahi, don’t worry about that. Most liberos won’t stand a chance to that killer serve.”

He huffed, his low voice making the noise guttural and frustrated, but his mouth was curving into his gentle smile. I grinned, taking in him once again because I could—over a head taller than me, muscles that could rival the strength of sharks, hair that could put models to shame, and eyes that could challenge the stars, yet he was the most meek and humble guy I had ever met. I respected Asahi not only for his talent at volleyball, but his gentle giant personality. Despite his stature, which I was always aware of, I firmly believed that his compassionate heart was the biggest thing about him. 

“Your receive was great too, Noya,” He said, and I blinked sharply, thrust back into the present conversation. Suddenly, Asahi’s hand clasped my shoulder. The force of his arm made me jolt, I told myself, even as my traitorous heart quickened at the sight of his fingers around my muscle. “Keep it up!” he bellowed, and I met Asahi’s smile. Still, he didn’t release his grip. Before he got the chance, Daichi’s voice broke through the gym, halting us all in place.

“Listen up!” He said, as stray balls dribbled to a stop on the floor. “We’ve been doing great in practices all week, and our next game isn’t in two weeks. We’re all stressed off our asses and working what’s left of them off. I think we need a night of fun.”

My heart thrummed. A night out was the most exciting thing that had happened to me in months. The thrum of the music, the dancing, the drinks…yeah, I would be down for a crazy evening with my best mates. “Hell yeah!” yelled Tanaka, and my grin widened. If we were really going out, Tanaka would make it a wild night for sure. I still felt a headache from a night we got hammered the summer after our first year. Around us, the other guys were nodding in agreeance, even Suga, though I knew he would mainly be supervising us. Still, I looked to Asahi, still holding my shoulder. He was looking at me, his open-as-a-book eyes murky.

The thing with me and Asahi is we are best friends. He’s my Ace. I’ll dive anywhere, get any bruise, risk any injury to make sure that ball will get to him. To get to anyone on our team, really, but always for Asahi. I don’t want to let him down. Where I am rough and wild, Asahi is calming and forgiving. We balance each other. So tell me why I have started to think that maybe we could complete each other. That maybe I feel something for Asahi that is more than a friendship, when all I want to do is to make him not have to worry about what goes on between us, on and off the court. My best friend’s eyes are still on mine, but my gaze is also taking in his hair, the sweat on the bridge of his nose, his jaw. “Um, it might be fun,” he eventually concedes, because he knows I was looking at him to make sure he was ok with going, the only one of us who maybe could pass for being of age in a bar but the least likely to go himself. I adore him. But I can’t. He’s looking at me with an expression of hopefulness, almost like he’s coaxing me to do what he knows I planned on from the beginning. 

He swallows, and it takes everything in me not to narrow my attention on the bob of his Adam’s apple, his neck trailing with sweat. God. I could use a drink after all. A night to be with my friends, to forget all about this impossible ridge growing between Asahi and me, of wanting and destroying. “Hell yes is right,” I echo Tanaka, my trademark grin resurfacing. “Let’s get trashed.”

*

ASAHI

I hear his laugh from across the room and my muscles lock up. It’s like listening to a bell ringing. It’s hypnotic. It comes when you least expect it. I can never get it out of my head. And somehow, it’s making me freeze, like even more of a complete dweeb. Snap out of it, I tell myself, forcing my hand to yank the Velcro padding off of the volleyball net as we clean up. But because I can’t help myself, I toe around the pad to the opposite side, allowing me to sneak in a glance at Noya and what made him so happy.

My breathing eases when I see Hinata and Kageyama. Probably begging him to sneak them in. Indeed, Noya’s resounding cackle is further proof, as is the reddening of the first years’ faces at his taunts. “No way am I going to be responsible for the pair of you! You’ll get smashed after two shots. If you want in, ask Tanaka, my hands are clean of this.”

“Senpai,” Hinata begins, and I wince, forcing myself back to my work. That trick may embarrassingly enough convince Noya; he’s egotistical in the strangest senses. As we roll up the net, Daichi catches my eye knowingly, well aware of my best friend’s weaknesses. When I finish tying off the net around itself, he calls out, “Asahi,” jerking his head towards the supply closet. We carry the net and poles into the nook, narrowly dodging Tsukki pushing the cart of balls, and lower them against the wall. Right when they’re at rest, Daichi turns to me, his brow furrowed. “You’re coming tonight, right?” 

I nod. Daichi looks over my shoulder, towards the courts. I turn my head, too, where we can barely see Hinata jumping up and down, blocking all except the spiked tips of Noya’s inky hair from my sight. (I don’t understand how it retains its shape after practices; one of many things that confound me about Noya).

Daichi doesn’t wait for me to turn back to him, as if he knows my inability to turn my gaze away (which would be 100% correct, even with my breathtaking view of literally just a glimpse of Noya’s hair). Instead, I hear him say, “Watch out for them. Especially him.”

“Who?” I ask, but Daichi responds just as quickly, “Who else?”, stepping past me back into the gym. I shake my head, a rueful smile ghosting across my lips as much as I try to force it down, because really, who else would it be, as my eyes dart towards him instinctively, like a magnetic force strong enough to give me whiplash. My head rests again the doorframe while I look at him, trying to drink in as much as I can in the shadow of the closet before I get splashed with the sobriety of my life’s impossibility when I step back into gym. His dark hair’s impossible peaks, brightened by the smallest tuft of blonde, bob in enthusiasm as he listens to Hinata’s continued praise. My smile widens at his ridiculousness, but stays as I accidentally admire the way his grin heightens the sharpness of his face. Still, I find myself as always looking back at his eyes, whenever he can’t see. Even in the crappy gym lighting, the hazel of them are mesmerizing to me, tinting a mix of gold and green and brown as spontaneous and intense as Noya himself. But just as quickly, they’re lost to me, as he shuts them in an instant, knocking his head back in a howl of laughter that makes me physically flinch with surprise, with delight. Although I’m the ace, Noya’s presence commands me like no other, especially when he laughs. The sound is like thunder—as sharp, as strong, as mesmerizing. It strikes me somewhere in my chest, making it ache until it feels like I can hardly breathe. Noya in his entirety is like an all-consuming hurricane. I feel like I’m standing in the eye of the storm, mere feet from getting swept away to oblivion. 

My delirium is broken abruptly as Noya whirls in my direction. Instantly, my cheeks heat, and I duck my head down at an angle, hoping to blame my flush on the previous workout. Having been found out, I lumber out from my hideaway to my place at his side. But not at his side, I can’t help but think, and my chest tightens even more. 

“Looks like we’re gonna show these first-years how to have a good time after all,” he grins up at me, the shark-teeth cutting right through me. It takes an effort to smile, and while I tell myself I’m heeding Daichi’s warning about keeping Noya in check, it’s really because I am wary to be in any situation alone with Noya. Nonetheless, I knew even without Daichi’s request, I would have been following him like a lost dog. His energy and dedication are unlike anything I have ever known, staking the fires of passion of our team whenever they start to fade. His determination could crack the center of the Earth; his laughter could convince Mt. Fuji to wake from its slumbering. That may seem poetic, but you’ve never seen Noya dive for a ball halfway across the court, earning bruises and scrapes on every free part of his skin just for the chance of getting it up for me to hit. Noya, who does all of this, yet continues to be overflowing with energy, cocky as hell, but humble enough to sacrifice himself so we can score again and again. Noya, who dominates a room with a few sentences, when he could hang out with anyone in our school, chooses to listen to me, his meek, quiet opposite. Though he could tell stories for hours, when I open my mouth, Noya always listens. He laughs at my bad jokes, even though his are better. He makes me valid with his confidence in me when he is so much larger than I am. He is my sun, and I have somehow become caught in his orbit, and hurtling around him and bursting into flame has become a constant in my life. 

But he is my best friend. I could never let him know that I feel this way. It’s bad enough that I have to be this close to him and know I can never touch him more than I can sneak in. I don’t think I could bear it if he knew what was behind each brotherly slap, couldn’t stomach watching him flinch away from me, to shut me out from the small sliver of his life he lets me see. Because I know Noya. He’s wanted to get in Kiyoko’s pants since he was a first-year, and he clearly isn’t stopping with her. I know I’ll be forever doomed to unrequited love with him, but stopping my feelings for Noya are like stopping his receives. Right when I think I’ve shoved them so far down they can’t resurface, they come back for an impossible show. 

The show is what I’m worried about tonight. While I am a larger guy, I don’t drink hardly ever, and the idea of alcohol loosing my tongue is making me quake with anxiety. As Hinata and Noya continue to babble, I focus on Noya’s face unconsciously, feeling my eyebrows knit. If I let something slip, he would never look at me like this, which breaks my heart more than his rejection would. I should follow Daichi’s advice, I tell myself, and not get too feisty myself. Looking down at Noya, though, my stomach plunges, and my mind whirls prayers upon prayers that somehow, tonight doesn’t end in total disaster.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a tad bit of ~strong language~ in this, hope that is ok and that you guys enjoy! :)

NOYA

The thrum of the music has worked its way into my heartbeat, which is beating violently in time to the booming bass. I’m nudging against the sweaty mass of humanity swarming towards the bar, clutching Tanaka’s sleeve as to not get swept away. The low lighting blurs the faces around me, only illuminating few of them on occasion when the multicolored spinning lights focus on them. In the darkness, I try to make out where the bar is, but my height and the crowd and the thumping is already decreasing my capacity to think intelligently. Suddenly, I feel the tips of calloused fingers against my back, a jolt running down my spine. Asahi gently nudges me forward with his hand, and I obligatorily follow, my feet moving out of instinct as any hope of logic leaves my body with Asahi’s touch. 

We reach the wooden bar, Asahi dropping his hand when I pull out a chair. I hop on the stool and drum my fingers against the wood as he sidles into the seat next to me. Even though I’m already sweating, his presence sends another level of warmth coursing through me, and I fix my gaze fiercely on the table drumming beneath my fingers, trying to ignore his figure dominating the corner of my eye. The crowd cheers behind us while I sneak a glance, my heart somehow beating faster than the bass as I take in his fresh slicked-back bun, an interesting mahogany t-shirt that clings to his muscles in chest-paining ways, and dark jeans, of which I force myself to only spare a glance to anything below his hips. Still, I let them linger on his face, watching his eyes darting back to where Hinata and Kageyama are loitering with Suga, his eyebrows furrowed. My cheeks relax from their clench, but my fingers don’t stop drumming. I don’t think I’m blinking from where I’m stealthily gazing, not even discreetly at this point, my head lowkey tilted in his direction, my other hand coming up to rest my chin against my fist.

A thump knocks me out of the daze. I whirl back to the bar to see the bartender’s hand slamming down two bottles of beer on the table. “This good to start you lads off?” he asks gruffly, his gaze going to Asahi, undeniably due to his inhumanly large frame.

Asahi meets my gaze, his eyes flickering in alarm, asking me silently. “For now,” I respond curtly. The bartender’s attentions turns towards me in surprise, but tries to recover with a quick nod before turning back around. The instant he’s gone, Asahi leans towards me. He gets close to my ear so I can hear what he’s whispering over the crowd’s roar, and suddenly the whole room seems silent in comparison to the pounding in my head.

“What’s the plan for tonight?” he asks me, his tone awkward. I smile ruefully and grab my bottle in response, nocking the neck back into my mouth as I take two large gulps. Asahi swallows, the action a communication of his distaste for my revelry in the action. While the thought twinges my heart slightly, the idea of letting these thoughts of him ferment without substances for the rest of the night, in this close vicinity to him, seems unbearable, and I drink more heartedly. Placing the bottle down with a loud clang, I turn back to face him. “Am I to have a limit?” I would have added a “Dad” onto the end, indicating how much of a paternity figure he’s being already, but the implications of the word hit me strongly at the last second, and I choke down the thought with a deep flush having nothing to do with the club’s heat.

Asahi flecks his jaw to the side, and my insides churn. Another sip. Two, I give myself. The bottle is halfway empty and it’s been two minutes but I don’t give a damn; I want it all inside me now, want all these feelings bottled up. He’s looking at me like he’s concerned, swirling his bottle with his left hand before sipping languidly. My eyes widen as I watch the liquid drain, getting less and less as Asahi continues to gulp. With a final gulp, Asahi slams the empty glass on the bar, his gaze returning to me with an unreadable smirk. I can’t help myself when the cackle escapes me, my grin suddenly free from my clenched jaw. “Alright, Asahi!” I smack his arm playfully, yet the feel of his bare, firm flesh under my fingers force me to yank my hand back as if I’ve just touched fire.

His returning chuckle is deep and rumbling, like an avalanche or and old man. Somehow, it’s both of those and extremely sexy. My hands wind their way towards my own drink at the thought. My eyes, however, never leave him; it’s like they can’t help themselves; they’re stuck on him like glue. He’s smiling shyly down at his empty drink, the hint of a dimple forming. God. “Maybe I should loosen up,” he says, and suddenly, his gaze swings towards mine. I’m struck by paralysis at his lazy grin, as if the dam he has built from most of the world has finally broken. He looks relaxed, free, alive. However, his eyes are still swelling with anxiety as they meet mine. 

“You sure?” I ask him, and he nods tersely. Although the notion of Asahi getting trashed alongside me is sending sharp bursts of excitement through me, I know this is not usually what he likes to do. I don’t want him to feel pressured to party with us; I just want Asahi to feel comfortable. I lean closer to him, ignoring the tension to look him in the eyes. “You don’t have to. You know that, right?”  
He swallows slowly, his eyes silently examining mine. I don’t know what for, just that I’d gladly stay like this until I died. Finally, he mumbles, “I think I need a little fun, too, Noya.” 

I smile at him, then move apart as soon as I can, forbidding myself to linger and get any more ideas. “So, we’re doing this?” At his nod, I wave frantically at the bartender, making Asahi grin at my eccentric beckoning. There would be use telling him what to do more than I already had. Plus, it would be fun to get trashed with Asahi. I turn back to him with a start—an idea nearly stopping me blind. “Yo, this is going to be too fun! And I might just have an idea that could make this the best night of our lives.”

“The best night…of our lives?” He asks uncertainly, a flush creeping into his face. I am struck by the fear he’s daydreaming of us picking up chicks, something he would likely paint me at doing, and internally wince. But on the outside, I chide him, saying, “let’s go shot for shot. See how many rounds we can take. We can wager something, too, over who has to cut it off first.”

He winces, and I can see his mind turning, thinking of all the ways this could go wrong, but in that moment, I just want the alcohol inside me and him dancing next to me in a world where we forget about what we’re supposed to be and anything could happen between us. “Forget about the wager, that’s too much, but say we’ll go shot for shot,” I say lower, almost begging when I choke out, “Please.” 

The bartender finally comes to us, loitering for a moment as he looks to Asahi for our order. “Two shots of vodka,” he barks, and my insides ignite. “Keep it coming.”

He leaves momentarily, and I raise my fist in Asahi’s direction. He taps it with his own in silent affirmation. The next thing we know, the shots are in front of us. One cup in my tiny fingers, one dwarfed in Asahi’s ginormous palm.

“To a great night,” I say, and our glasses clink before I tilt mine back, the burning down my throat nothing compared to what’s building in my chest when I look at him, but I savor the rush, begging it to take me over entirely.

ASAHI

We’ve had four shots in the last 45 minutes, between making sure the freshmen weren’t completely off their faces yet and mingling with our friends. Noya’s dancing now, his arms flailing in no way I’ve seen good dancers move before, but like everything he does, it’s mesmerizing to me. Even semi-drunk. Tipsy? I’m not entirely sure. Fuck me, the last time I drank was almost a year ago, and the effects of alcohol are hitting me harder than I thought with my size. Though my mind is clear (ish), I’m stumbling when I walk, and words are difficult to remember. Except for one, for fuck’s sake. One word, one name won’t stop pounding in my head. I was supposed to drink until he was out of my system, but with each shot, I somehow feel his presence even more. He’s all I can think about. Fuck.

I’m standing far from the dance floor, just watching the multicolored lights twinkle over his spiky hair as it thrums up and down to the roaring guitar, where Tanaka next to him is fist pumping off-beat. My heart swells beside myself, and I’m swaying. Fuck. Then he meets my gaze. His hand starts waving wildly, and I see his mouth make out my name, above the roar of the crowd. He’s motioning me towards the floor, to the pounding and the moving, and the sober part of me knows what a bad idea that is. But just as suddenly, a short figure is in front of me, and tiny hands are in mine, powerful as they drag me to the center of the dance floor.

I feel the press of sweaty bodies on all sides, and I jerk when someone backs into my feet. Noya keeps his grip, though, and doesn’t let me go even when we reach Tanaka. He leans towards me, almost falling against me, and I realize just how drunk he really is, too. I giggle without helping it. Noya and I, drunk. Not how I thought this night would go. 

But just as fast, he rights himself, smiling blearily up at me. (Definetly drunk, the way his eyes are lolling, his eyes half-closed. His eyelashes are too long to be legal. Fuck.) “Asahiiiiiiii…” he mumbles, bopping back and forth to the beat. (All I can think about is his hands still knit in mine. They’re sweaty from dancing, but are mine? Oh noo…) “This is SO FUN!”

He tilts his head back and shakes it around, and I laugh at his display. But when he rights himself, he looks at me oddly, falling towards me. “You’re not having fun?” he asks it like a question, and now his eyebrows are narrowed, and his mouth parted in worry.

(I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s like you’re sitting on my chest and won’t let me breathe.) “Yes,” I shout over the music, tipping downward for the chance at him hearing me better. He doesn’t look convinced, with the same expression reflected up at me. I don’t know what he wants me to do, so I grin. (Would it kill him to close his mouth? It’s too pink in this lighting, and it’s half opened, just waiting for…)

He leans towards me, and I swear, my heart climbs into my throat and I forget how to breathe. Noya’s hair tickles my cheek as he moves to my ear so he can whisper, and I try to hold in my shiver. “Dance with me,” he breathes, and every non-sober part of me practically melts at his voice.

“Yes,” I croak, and he pulls away from me, moving our arms in the same idiotic motion he was doing earlier. Except now, our hands are linked, and Noya is smiling, and the beat is suddenly inside me, and everything is so, so bright.

He pumps one arm, then the other, towards his chest next, in a new kind of dance. We let go when the bass gets intense, thrusting our fists to the sky as we laugh, laugh, laugh about absolutely nothing, but somehow everything. I can’t stop smiling when I look at him, because he’s radiant, his grin contagious. 

We jump around like that to two more songs, my insides turning to fireworks from the alcohol, although I know it’s Noya I’m drunk on, with his bad dancing and warm eyes that make me feel like I can do anything, even dance (as uncoordinated as I am) in public. He’s inches in front of me (and below me), looking at me stupidly drunk like I’m the most graceful person in this shitty bar, and his hands have somehow found their way back to gripping my wrists so I can follow his motions. He raises our hands to the sky as the song finally beats to a close, and the crowd erupts. I never thought I could be this happy in a crowded club, but it’s radiating out of me, all because of the short ball of energy in front of me.

But then, the club suddenly gets hotter than the already sweaty mess, because when the beat starts up again, all innocence and pep is gone and replaced by a sultry, intoxicating bass. Instantly, I feel my stomach plummet, even the alcohol not protecting me from my overwhelming fear of this situation. Fuck. Dancing around with Nishinoya is one thing, but dancing like the couples around us are starting to—pressing up against each other, touching and rolling hips—is something completely different, something I have never dreamed I do, especially not with Noya. I’m still as a statue as I look at him now, looking kind of perplexed himself as he shuffles side-to-side to the beat, but casually rolling his hips the way that I know everyone around me has started to. My eyes drink him in like this, sweaty and drunk but confidently just moving his hips and I think I’m going to explode. 

He looks up at me underneath his long eyelashes, smirking slightly and clearly delirious from the alcohol, looking more sexual than I thought humanly possible. My throat goes dry. “Wanna try?” he asks. The question makes me tense up more than I already am, while making my insides burst into flames. The sober part of me is freaking out, recognizing just how far out of my comfort zone this situation is. But my heart is tugging me forward, to him, to let myself fall completely under his spell. The alcohol, too, is silencing the rational part of me, because suddenly I’m stumbling closer, every fear gone and replaced by one thing: Nishinoya. He’s still looking up at me, moving intoxicatingly slowly to the music, but his eyes are searching mine, even though he’s very drunk, like they can sense my uncertainty, and want me to know that he’s safe—that I’m safe with him, that he won’t push me unless I want him to. I want him to. I feel myself nod, and his eyes light up in a different way entirely, and every part of me feels on fire.

Then he turns around, backing until he’s against me, the top of his hair tickling my chin. I’m desperately hoping my heartbeat isn’t beating hard enough to hurt Noya (his head is against my chest, oh my God, he can definitely feel it--) but then his hands are reaching behind him for my wrists, and he’s pulling my arms down and wrapping them around his waist, and I know there’s no stopping the thunderous pounding inside my chest. Then his hips shift, and I feel him press against me, and we’re grinding. I could pass out right now, fall forward and crush Noya. I’m desperately trying not to lose consciousness and follow his movements, almost like a circle, though I know mine’s clumsy and alcohol-driven. Still, though my stomach is in knots and my pulse is racing, it feels so, so good, Noya and me pressed up like this.

I don’t how much time passes like this—all the noise of the music is a blur, everything fading away but Noya against me, his cologne the only thing I can smell even with the crowd around us. Suddenly he breaks away for a few moments, only to turn around and wrap his arms around my neck, moving just as intensely against my front. My breath hitches as his thumb rubs against my neck, and my head tilts forward, our foreheads inches from each other. From this angle, I can barely see his eyes (they’re half closed anyway, which is already too hot to be legal), but I do see his lips—intoxicatingly open and grinning up at me. A thrill shoots through me, realizing that he’s enjoying this too, and I feel brave for just long enough to tighten my arms around his waist, tucking my fingers through the loops in his jeans to pull him more against me. I feel him shaking in response, and I dip my head lower to see his face, holding back a sigh of relief when I see him laughing. Then his mouth is against my ear, and my brain short-circuits. “Mm..” he slurs. I can feel his smile against my skin. “Ilikethis.”

“Me too,” I whisper, grinning dopily into his hair. God, I’m trashed, from the shots and the him moving against me. We move with our chests against each other for a while. Noya’s hands slip to my forearms and squeeze gently, making me inhale sharply. Fuck. Then, he pulls my arms back slightly and turns around, pressing his back against me and continuing to roll his hips. I follow his movements, less sloppily than earlier, I hope—my hips moving in a circle and pulled close against Nishinoya. He tilts his head back lazily against my chest. I can feel his hot breaths against my cheek. I’m trying not to shiver but I’m so warm with Nishinoya against me, with my lips lazily slung lower than I mean to on his hips, but he’s not stopping me, and we’re dancing so intensely…

Fuck. I know in an instant I’ve let this go too far. The flush I’m feeling throughout my whole body goes straight to somewhere low and dangerous, and I immediately go rigid. I shove myself away from Noya, praying he hadn’t felt what I realized too late to be a hard-on pressed against him. (Oh my God, oh my God…) As my arms drop limp at my sides, Noya whirls to face me, confusion painted plain on his face. His eyes are wide and worried, sending a knife through me. “Are you okay?” he asks. 

No. Yes. I can’t let you know how real this is for me. Noya dances with our friends all the time, and he’s drunk and it doesn’t mean anything special to him, not like how sacred it is for me. “I’ll be right back,” I manage to choke out, backing up and bumping into someone before I practically trip over myself hurtling towards the bathroom.

He can’t know, he can’t know, I think desperately, splashing my face with cold water. The world is spinning, my harsh grip on the sink the only thing centering me in the universe. I thump my forehead against the mirror. I shouldn’t have drank, never should have let myself get so close to him, knowing how I feel about him and what could happen. Still, as much as I’m trying to cool myself down, my thoughts can’t keep themselves off of Noya alone on the dance floor and what he must be thinking.

NOYA

All I know is Asahi was here, and we were dancing together and happy, and in the next second, he was running away from me as fast as he could.

What did I do? My throat bobs, and I tip the cold glass back, the liquid biting less than the daggers in my mind. I pushed him too far. I shouldn’thave danced with him like that, knowing how I feel and howfaricouldgo, but he was letting me…

He’s been drinking, Noya, I tell myself. I hope I’m not talking out loud. I realllly don’t hold alcohol well with my size, but this Asahi thing has me pushed to my absolute LIMITS to forget about it. But like usual, I made a mess of everything, and clearly made my bestest best friend Asahi uncomfortable by dancing up on him like a pole. “I shouldn’thave done it,” I hear myself mumble, sluggishly dragging myself back to the dance floor, eyes scanning for his tall frame in the mob. I lost him in the crowd when he ran, but I didn’t think he wanted me to find him, from the way his eyes looked into mine. I know when Asahi’s afraid, and he was looking at me as if I was the scariest thing he had seen. “Stupid!” I shout at myself.

The extra drink hasn’t helped. I’m drunk, but very aware of my misery. I need a distraction! I look in the crowd again, scanning for friends, when I see Tanaka dancing next to Daichi and Suga, and stumble towards them, embarrassed at how uneven my steps have become. Tanaka grins when he sees me, knocking the senpais’ shoulders to divert their attention away from each other (they’re grinding very enthusiastically. It makes me sad, makes me think of how Asahi and I were dancing, and how much fun we were having and now it’s over and I don’t know what I did). “Noyaaa!” Tanaka yells.

I think I smile; at least, I’m trying to tilt my lips upward (I don’t know what my body’s doing). “Dance?” I ask helplessly.

“Where’s Asahi?” Suga’s eyebrows are knit. My face falls instantly, into a deeper frown than I feel like I’ve ever made. 

“I dunno,” I sigh. “We were having fun and dancing for so long!”

“Yeah…you were kind of all over each other,” Daichi acknowledged, and I wince. Flashes of my hands on his shirt, our hips crashing into each other are haunting me, and now making me realize that there were other people in the club, watching that. Watching Asahi, who barely likes to make speeches in public. “Oh God,” I cry, slapping my hands over my face.

Suga tries to start say something supportive, but I interrupt him, stepping away. “No, I fucked it up, I shouldn’t have made him so uncomfortable, and now he’s gone and I don’t know where he went.” It sounds like I’m crying by the end of the sentence, and I am helpless when Suga does break away from Daichi and puts his hand on my shoulder. I huff again, my chest constricting in a way worse than it felt before we came to this stupid party. “He’s going to hate me. I can’t handle that, Suga. Where did he go?”

“Shh, Nishinoya, it’s going to be okay,” Suga soothes, but I don’t understand—all I know is the ache in my chest, for the person I’m in love with and the fact that he left. “I just want to forget about it,” I breathe, my eyes lighting up. “I just have to…dance it out.” I paused a lot in that sentence, and I hope no one notices (I mean, no one said anything, so I think they couldn’t tell). Out of the corner of my eye, I see Suga and Daichi exchange a look, but no one says anything. They just let me stumble towards Tanaka and back against him, starting to grind, but half-assed (no pun intended). It’s a joke, like I usually make, by grinding on friends, but everything with Asahi had been completely different. I meant everything—I wouldn’t have made him as a whim, or for fun. I did it because I couldn’t help myself, couldn’t stand another second when he was so close to me but not against me, and my whim messed it all up, because now I’m moving against someone, the dancing meaningless with tears welling in my eyes, because the person I need is somewhere and doesn’t want me to come find him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Pride everyone! Sorry this is long overdue. I'm out of school for the summer so hopefully I can get the last chapter up soon. Thank you again for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

ASAHI

I don’t know how long I stay in the bathroom. Cold water and sweat are plastered against my forehead, my jeans still feeling sickeningly tight against my skin even though I’m long past feeling aroused. My hands are clenched so tight against the porcelain I was afraid it would break off. It’s holding me up as I stare into my muddy brown eyes, asking what the fuck I thought I was doing, trusting myself to make good choices like that. I might have stayed here all night if not for the sudden bang of the bathroom door opening, and a concerned Daichi entering within seconds. 

“Asahi…” he starts, but I just shake my head and come towards him and pull him into a hug before he can say anything else, his face muffled in my shoulder. His hand comes up to pat my back. “Hey, it’s okay, big guy, I should’ve known this kind of thing would happen.”

“What?” I ask, pulling slightly back so I can look Daichi in the eye. While he’s still looking at me seriously, his eyes are twinkling with mirth. “You knew…how I feel about Nishinoya?”

“Asahi, you’re not exactly the most covert,” he smiles, and I blush. I guess I am kind of obvious of my adoration for him. Instantly, my heart races, panicking that Noya, too, has been picking up on these signals. As much as this worries me, however, a small part of me is whispering, isn’t that what you want? I shove it down, and away—I can’t ruin what Noya and I have over my selfish emotions. I shouldn’t have tempted them, used Noya’s friendliness to my advantage. 

Daichi interrupts my spiraling, squeezing my back to bring me back to reality. “I don’t think he knows, Asahi,” he says quietly, and my shoulders relax. He smiles ruefully. “He’s kind of clueless.”

I snort. He kind of is. But I’m trash for it. “Even with all…all the dancing?” it comes out with a wince. The amount of regret I’ll feel tomorrow is immeasurable with how crap I’m feeling now.

“He thinks he upset you somehow,” Daichi says, and my chest caves, the thought that I made him upset too much to bear. “You should talk to him. Explain what happened.”

I let out a ginormous sigh. Talking to Noya is easy, easier than with most people for me, but about that—my blood runs cold. “I don’t think I can,” I say weakly. “He’ll be weirded out, and never want to talk to me again, and I can’t—”

“Asahi,” Daichi starts, his Captain-voice in action so I’m forced to meet his unrelenting gaze. “He looked sad when you were gone. Just try to talk to him.” He pats my arm one more time before leaving me alone in the bathroom, my thoughts echoing off of the filthy tiles. I did owe Noya an explanation, even if I didn’t want to admit what had happened. And Daichi was too clever—the thought of Noya sad was doing me in. The fact that I was the cause of his unhappiness was quickly overtaking any fears I held of his judgment—what mattered to me more was knowing that Nishinoya was okay, assuring him that I wasn’t upset with him, that I couldn’t be if I tried. Smiling, I opened the door to the bathroom and started making my way back into the club.

I try and fail not to look desperate as I scan the club for Noya’s tufts of hair. Even with my height, it proves difficult, and fear shoots in me that he decided to leave while I was hiding. Shoving away my guilt, I try to focus on scanning the people around me, but they’re all blending together, writhing to alluring music that only turns my stomach because as the bass thrums on, Nishinoya’s still not here.

Then, I spot Tanaka’s shaved head off to the side. I stumble forward to get a better view, noticing Hinata and Kageyama around him in a half-circle. They’re bumbling side to side in a drunken attempt to dance, which I would find amusing in any circumstances but this. I’m just moving towards them blindly in the hopes that he’s with them. But then his shape comes into my view, and my stomach plummets. 

Noya’s head is bobbing to the bass, but it’s not what I’m staring at, frozen. His hips are rocking and swaying like before, but now…my breath hitches. He’s pressed against Tanaka, and they’re dancing like we were. You said it yourself that he was like this. He dances with everybody. His hips move in a lazy circle, and I remember how they felt against me, when he was smiling like that up at me like no one else was in the club bus us. You had to know it meant nothing to him. I had to, I’m trying to remember that, but his smile won’t leave my mind. He’s friendly like that with everyone, Asahi. My eyes are following his hips, mesmerized. My stomach is in chaos and I feel like I could wretch watching him dance like this on somebody else, but I can’t for the life of me look away. 

Time doesn’t seem to pass as I back away from the dance floor, ending up leaning against the bar and downing another drink, but my eyes never leave him, even as he moves from partner to partner, dancing as enthusiastically with each of them. A sober part of me would have been relieved that I was right and that our dancing isn’t going to change anything between us. I can’t hear that part of me anymore though. Instead, all I know is the overwhelming emptiness of being so close to him and now watching him dance on someone else from what might as well be miles away. 

NOYA

My throat feels like it’s on fire. I don’t know if it’s hoarse form shouting or the drinking, but it fucking hurts. You know what else fucking hurts? My fucking heart. Nothing’s helping, I’m moving against Tanaka with everything in me, but it feels like I’m not even in my body anymore. Then I’m lurching forward, Tanaka’s fast grip catching me seconds before I fall on the floor. “Thankssss,” I yell, not even concerned at how much I’m slurring. But then I feel my feet give out again, the world spinning faster, and the thought crosses my mind that I might have had a bit too much to drink.

ASAHI

I had to tear my gaze away eventually, and I’m boring holes into the wood of the bar to keep my eyes off of him when Suga comes up to me. “Noya needs help,” he simply says, and I’m hopping down from the bar, racing behind Suga down some hallway and into a room I didn’t know existed, my breaths heavy and not from running. Daichi and Tanaka are holding him up in a chair. His head lolls upward when he hears us enter, and despite looking like shit (hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, skin clammy from drinking), he still stuns me with his attempt at a smile. “I found you,” he says weakly. He’s looking at me with what looks like the last bit of energy he has holding his eyes open. My heart stops.

I feel something cold pressed into my hand; looking down, I see it’s Tanaka handing me a glass of water. “He almost passed out on the dance floor. Make sure he drinks this and gets home alright.”  
“Where are you going?” I ask them, as he and the Captains begin to file out. Suga silently opens his phone and shows me Tsukki’s snap story from minutes ago—Hinata and Kageyama having a chugging contest. “We’ll round them up and leave, too,” Suga says, then flicks his eyes back and forth between Noya and me. He winks, and I’m too sober for this. “Have fun.” And he’s gone. 

I kneel in front of Noya, my hand fumbling to grasp his so I can hand him the water. So I can hand him the water…I tell myself as I feel Noya’s smaller fingers link through mine. I used to feel self-conscious about how much larger mine were than his, but Noya’s don’t make me feel like mine are brutish or monstrous—they’re equally matched in his firm grip. My eyes move up from where our hands our clasped to his face. I’m stunned to find him staring openly back at me, his eyes more alert than I’ve seen them all night, hazel and open and beautifully damning. I swallow. Noya’s so readable, but I can’t decipher what his tight lips are trying to say. He’s too quiet, and it’s killing me. Then I remember the water, and awkwardly grab it with my other hand and hold it up between our faces.

He tries to push it away with his free hand, never breaking our gaze. I push it back gently. “You have to drink this,” I say softly. “It’ll make you feel better, Noya.”

“I alreadyfeelalotbetter,” he says in one big rush, smiling with the corners of his mouth. He looks peaceful like this, like I’ve just woken him up from an afternoon nap. It’s adorably concerning. Then his hand squeezes mine, and my heart leaps. “You came back.”

I shake my head. Daichi was right, he saw it so differently, and it’s killing me. “I didn’t want to leave,” I admit. Something changes in Noya’s eyes then, and I shove down the rising heat that’s building and praying it’s not fully on display on my cheeks. 

“Why did you go then?” he says, pouting. I’m imagining it I’m sure, but his face seems closer to mine. Still, it doesn’t make telling him he turned me on any easier. I swallow. He does deserve the truth, and he’s intoxicated and honestly, while half of me is screaming in fear, I’m awful at saying no to him, with his understanding heart.

“I, um…” I wince, breaking our gaze and staring intensely at our clasped hands. “I actually was having too much fun. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, and I know you didn’t feel that way about me…”

“Asahi.” It’s all that Noya says, but his tone is wonderstruck. I can’t look at him. “Asahi,” he says again, softer now, and I let one of my eyes go to his face to gauge his reaction. I’m almost blinded by the enormity of his smile, the pure joy radiating out of him. I lift my head to face him fully, and I don’t think my heart can bear the look of happiness on his face right now, at me. “Why would you think that I didn’t feel that way about you?”

I huff. Can he be serious? Yet, I can’t stop the smile from forming on my face by what I think he’s insinuating. (Is he? This can’t be real, I must be more inebriated than I thought…) but he’s still there, smiling at me slowly, his thumb running over the back of my palm. I laugh again at myself—this is better than any dream. “I thought you were just being nice to me because we were friends and I was alone! You danced with everyone else here, too.”

Now Noya laughs, his eyelids lowering, and then his face is much, much closer to mine, his nose inches from my own. “I don’t dance with anybody like I dance with you,” he whispers. I can feel his hot breath on my face, smelling faintly of alcohol and mint. My heart is a thunderstorm in my chest. He’s so close, and his grin has turned into something else, and I watch Noya’s eyes flick from mine to a little lower. My mouth, I realize, and in the next moment, his head tilts into mine, and he’s kissing me.

My first thought is—oh. I’ve never done this before. His mouth is pressed hard against mine, and I taste the alcohol and mint of him in an exhilarating rush. I think I’m pressing back, but half of my brain is completely blanking out and I could be doing anything and not know because I’m too happy to think. Noya tilts his head to the side, and our lips press together again, sweetly and genuine and so soft and slow I think my heart might burst with the tenderness of this. 

Then Noya parts his lips, and the taste of alcohol on him is overwhelming. I pull back slightly, searching his eyes. “You’re drunk,” I whisper, “I don’t want you to do anything when you can’t totally consent…”

He stops me with a kiss, his lips gentle and sure, and my reservations suddenly seem a lot less pressing. Noya pulls back, too, so our noses are bumping each other. “Sober me’s wanted this for forever,” he says, his eyes so earnest that I know he can’t be lying. He brings our lips back together and I melt, because Noya has wanted this for forever. “I wish I was sober,” I hear him mumble against me when we briefly part. “I want to remember this.” I tug him back into me, all of my constant thoughts silenced with his mouth against mine. 

My knees are crying, since I’m still kneeling in front of the chair and holding up half of Noya’s body weight (not that I’m complaining) as he’s draped himself against me, his arms around my shoulders. I shift slightly, trying to get more comfortable, and suddenly he’s falling on top of me. We hit the ground with a hard thud, and Noya has to break our kiss because he’s laughing so much. I lean up slightly to look at his face. Head tilted back in laughter, his hair’s highlight illuminated by the crappy bar lighting, he has never looked more beautiful. Noticing my gaze, he settles his chin back against my chest, smiling at me softly with his eyelids half-closed. 

“Hi,” he breathes. His breath reeks of the alcohol, but I smile anyways. He nudges himself forward, knocking his nose against my chin.

“Hi,” I whisper back, tightening my arms around him. I crane my neck to close the gap between us, and Noya responds immediately. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to his mouth against mine—intense and passionate like Noya is with the rest of the world, but at the same time tentative and gentle, like kissing me is something precious. I tilt my head to kiss him deeper, and my chest clenches as I hear him mumble something into my lips. I move to pull back, but instantly, Noya kisses me just as deeply, and my chest threatens to explode with happiness.

I don’t know how long we lay there, but when I finally pull away, my mouth is sore. Nishinoya looks equally wrecked above me, lazily smiling at me with cracked, red lips. My heart stops as I realize that’s because of me; I feel myself blushing deeply, even though the act of making out with him didn’t make me embarrassed. Sensing my shyness, Noya brings his hand to my cheek, cradling it idly while looking down at me, his eyes half-closed. He strokes a thumb up the side so softly I might burst, and I relax under his touch. He smiles down at me in response, and I grin back, but in the next moment, my brow furrows.

“What is it?” He asks as I sit up on my elbows. I try to ignore how croaked his voice sounds, how dehydrated he must be after drinking so much and then making out with me. I reach out with one arm to steady him as I shift up so we’re both sitting, although he is still very much on top of me. 

“We should get you home,” I say, attempting to sound stern, although my chest kind of aches at the idea. Noya huffs, trying to furrow into my chest, despite my laughter. Pulling him back by his shirt, I look him in the eyes. “I’m serious. It’s late, and you’re still very drunk.”

“Am not,” Noya pouts, his brow creasing angrily. Then he raises one, and I instantly know he’s trouble. “If I wassodrunk, could I do this?” He leans back into me, and traitorously, I meet his lips eagerly. I can feel him smiling smugly against my lips during the third kiss, so I pull away. 

I stare at him, with his lazy grin and reddened lips looking happier than I’ve ever seen him. I’d be more than happy to lie on this floor forever, but we really do need to get home. He’s going to have a raging headache as it is; I’d rather him be able to sleep it off as much as possible, in the comfort of his own bed. Still, he seems very intent on staying here, on my lap, as long as possible, with the wicked grin he’s giving me. As I feel him sneaking his fingers to try and tickle my sides, I wonder how I’ll ever convince him to leave.

In a second, I have it. I lean forward slightly, and Noya’s breathing hitches, his entire body freezing. When I reach his ear, I whisper lightly, “Maybe I’ll carry you home.” Noya’s still tense where I’m holding him, and I worry even that is not convincing enough for us to leave. But when I pull back, the light in Noya’s eyes is unmistakable, and I can’t help the laugh that comes out of me. 

I heave him to my side so I can stand up, then help him up in the same motion. He tugs on my shirt, impatient to get on my back, and I chuckle at him. Leaning down, I ease him onto my back, his clammy arms winding around my shoulders. “Make sure you hold on,” I grunt, shifting upwards so I can walk us out of the bar. It hits me that carrying Noya might not be safe considering my earlier drinking, but so far, my steps seem even, even with Noya on my back. He shifts his head so it’s nestled in my left shoulder, the tufts of his black hair tickling the side of my head. It makes me fill with warmth that has nothing to do with the sweat from both of us. 

Squeezing through the door is the only thing that proves difficult; I have to duck and tilt Noya slightly, my hands unconsciously squeezing his thighs tighter. My heart nearly stops as I feel him tense at my actions—and at the sensation of his muscles underneath his tight jeans. Now on the sidewalk outside of the bar, I try to ignore it, figuring on my back, Nishinoya can’t notice my blushing. The next moment, however, Noya’s head jerks up from my shoulder and he presses his lips against my neck.

I gasp, and Noya laughs, his nose bumping the now-tingling skin. Goosebumps are rising on my arms from Noya’s warm breath against my skin. “Wish I couldkissyou,” I hear him mumble, then plop his cheek against against my shoulder. My mouth hurts from smiling so widely at Noya—brave, confident Noya—quiet and sensitive and wanting to kiss me again.

I tilt my head back slightly, my chin just bumping against Nishinoya’s forehead. I ghost a kiss over his hair, and he breathes in sharply. “Me too,” I whisper, then turning away to see where I’m walking in the dimly lit streets. 

We walk in silence for about five minutes before I realize just how far away we are from Noya’s place. Already, my arms are starting to ache slightly, and his house is still two miles down the road. He doesn’t seem in the best shape to walk, from the mumbled songs I hear him attempting to sing into my shoulder. I feel the flush rising on my cheeks before I even open my mouth to ask him. “Noya…your house is so far away…” I trail off. I can’t do this. This would be fine if nothing had happened between us at the club, but now that we have kissed, I don’t know where we go from here. And my question might be taken more suggestively than I would intend, especially since Noya’s drunk. He’s Noya though, who would never push past what I’m comfortable with, who even when intoxicated, knows me better than anyone else. I should just ask him. “Do you want to stay over?”

Immediately, I want the words to claw back into my throat. I’m blushing so furiously it’s probably visible in the dark street. I feel Noya shift against me, and my body tenses. Then, I feel him nod into my shoulder, then feel his smile digging into my shirt. I smile, too, although I’m wracked with a different set of nerves now that he’s agreed. Noya’s spent the night countless times, but…things are somewhat different. Would he not want to sleep in my room anymore? Or—would we both sleep in my bed? My heart speeds at the idea, equally wanting nothing to happen and our kisses to continue.  
Lost in thought, the block-long walk to my house goes by in an instant, and suddenly, I’m lowering Noya down on my porch. My mind’s still whirling as I unlock the door, following Noya inside with a hand on his shoulder to make sure he doesn’t stumble sideways. In the next moment, he whirls around to face me, and I have to steady him with both hands. I fall a little more in love with his hazel eyes blinking in the dark kitchen lighting. “Can I sleep in your room?” he asks earnestly. I swallow, nodding. He smiles and turns to bound up the stairs, thankfully making less of a ruckus than I imagined.

However, it’s too quiet when he opens the door—it’s like the universe holding its breath, knowing how easily breakable this situation is for the both of us. Always-confident Noya turns to look at me at the foot of my bed, his eyes wide and scared in a question. Locking eyes with him, I can hear the silence too; all of my worries and questions about Noya here are gone for a moment. What I want—what I’m still terrified of ruining—is waiting for me, and I’m pretty sure Noya wants it, too. I want to be brave for the both of us. 

I take a deep breath and step forward. My hand rises to Noya’s forehead; he follows my movement with his eyes, his mouth slightly parted. Our breaths seem to echo in the silence. With one finger, I move a limp brown hair dangling on his forehead to the side, trying and failing to tuck the short lock behind his ears. The rest of my hand follows, and suddenly, my fingers are stroking Noya’s hair, my palm cupping his cheek. Noya closes his eyes, tilting his head slightly into my touch. I watch him let out a long sigh, and my heart feels like it might burst. “What do you want, Nishinoya?” I hear myself breathe. 

He blinks before looking up at me, so torturously slow that I feel I might explode. “Whatever you want to do, Asahi,” he whispers, pursing his lips together and never breaking my gaze. I almost shiver at the look he’s giving me—so much in his eyes words could never sum up; a look I could never have dreamed could be directed at me. I duck my head at his answer, sheepish. I feel his hand wind into my free one, squeezing reassuringly. 

My other hand is still playing with his hair. More to the floor than Noya, I admit, “I’ve never really…done anything like this before…I don’t really know what to do.” He gives my hand a squeeze and I smile, still staring at my carpet. 

“Hey, that’s okay,” Noya says. I can hear the smile in his voice before I see it, when he uses his other hand to pull my jaw to face him. He thumbs over my stubble aimlessly as he talks, like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. He blushes, looking down as he speaks. “I haven’t done this, either. And we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, Asahi. I’d never pressure you into anything,” he meets my eyes again, the hazel both calming and making me more restless, but in the best way possible.

“I think…” I swallow. “I want to, if you do.”

Noya’s grin stretches to the ends of his cheeks. “Okay. Just tell me if you want to stop,” he breathes, reaching up his toes so he can fit his mouth to mine.

My hand tightens in his hair as his lips press against mine. He tilts his chin slightly, and I stop myself from gasping. Noya drops my hand, fisting his fingers into the material of my shirt and tugging me closer. Blindly, I try to wrap my free arm around him and end up almost grabbing his ass. This time, I do yelp, but Noya laughs as I pull away from him. When I meet his gaze, my heart seizes; the way he’s looking at me should be illegal. “Asahi, it’s okay,” he smiles. Then his eyebrow raises, and he’s full of trouble. “But if that wasn’t an accident, I wouldn’t mind either.” 

I try to burrow my flushing face in Noya’s shoulder, but he senses it and leans out of my reach so I have to look at him. His eyes are softer now as they scan mine, making sure I’m not too uncomfortable by his advances. Noya’s thumb strokes my cheek now, his small hands cradling my heavy head like it’s no weight at all. I know how excited he is from his body pressed against mine, but from the way he’s looking at me, I know he would be content if I said I just wanted to hold him like this for the rest of the night. I smile and lean forward, lightly kissing him on the lips. “Thank you,” I mumble when we briefly part, before I pull him closer and kiss him harder, Noya’s mouth opening from the force of us crashing together.

My hand in Noya’s hair moves to cradle the back of Noya’s head. He steps backwards, pulling me with him, until I hear his calves hit my bedframe. He breaks our kiss, looking into my eyes for confirmation. I answer him by pulling him into another kiss, then lifting him against me with the arm I wrapped around him. Then, I ease him onto my bed, laying him down before I climb on top of him. Noya’s hands find my shirt collar again in an instant. He tugs me forward, and I have to brace myself on my elbows on either side of his head to keep from crushing him beneath me. 

I move to kiss him again. It’s more urgent here, on my bed, with the taste and smell of Noya overwhelming me with every second. Our kisses become less restrained, my mouth completely open so Noya’s tongue easily slides inside. This time, there’s no stopping a noise that breaks through my throat, and despite the initial horror that shoots through me, I am calm when I feel Noya smiling against my lips. He plants a more chaste kiss against my mouth before moving to my cheek. He kisses my cheek before placing kisses downwards, tracing my jaw with his mouth. Then, he moves to my neck, kissing my skin lazily as if he had all the time in the world. When he reaches my collarbone, I suddenly feel his tongue, and I inhale sharply at the contact. I bite my lip to keep from releasing another embarrassing sound, but his mouth, hot and sweet where my neck meets my torso, is making me shiver uncontrollably. After a few moments, he looks back up at me, his eyes clouded.  
“Okay?” he asks, his voice shaky. I nod, arching my neck to the side to give him more access, and he grins like he’s just made an unbelievable receive.

He pounces in an instant. My eyes shut unwillingly at the sensation of his mouth. Although I’m slightly embarrassed, I don’t try to hold back my whimper, and Noya seems to relish in the sound, pressing his mouth against me tighter. I try fisting the sheets beneath me, but in the remaining part of my brain that’s functioning, decide to move to Noya’s hair instead, threading my fingers and tugging tightly. I’m not doing much, but with that slight motion, I swear I hear Noya whine against me, too, and my heart speeds up. A moment later, his mouth returns to mine, slightly wet from our shared saliva. He whines once more against my mouth before unceremoniously falling back against the mattress, his eyes and smile the widest I’ve ever seen.

“Asahi….” He breathes, his grin somehow growing larger. He drops a hand from my shirt to fling his arm over his forehead. “This ‘s great and all, but I’m really…I need to go to bed.”

I sit back on my heels, immediately retracting from laying on top of him. “Right, of course! I’m sorry,” I say, cursing myself for being so selfish. I took Noya to my house to get him to sleep quicker, after all. “I’m sorry I kept you up so late,” I mumble sheepishly.

Noya’s eyes are hidden by his arm, but I see his face contort in response to my comment. “Don’t apologize. Best night of my life,” he mutters. I smile despite my guilt. 

I look around the room, trying to decide where I should sleep. I don’t want to assume Noya would be okay with me in bed with him, and I want him to be comfortable. As I move to get up, however, Noya whines audibly. Looking down at him, he pats the sheets next to him aggressively. “Asahi, stayyyy,” he moans, and I chuckle, despite my flushing cheeks. “Asahiiiiii….”

“Fine, fine, move over,” I mumble, grabbing an extra blanket from my desk chair before sliding into bed next to Noya. He huffs, moving slightly so I can get in before rolling half-on top of me. I laugh out loud as he contentedly sighs, burying his head into my chest like a makeshift pillow. “Good think your feet aren’t cold,” I whisper against his hair. In response, he kicks my shin lightly where he’s woven our legs together. 

In a few moments, Noya’s breathing evens out, and I’m left holding him in his sleep. Before my eyes droop closed, I take in how he looks now—peacefully content in my arms for the night. A few hours ago, I couldn’t have imagined a scene like this could be my reality. This is the best night of my life too, Noya, I think to myself, before drifting off, happier than I could have ever dreamed with Noya here with me.


End file.
